We stood in the alley where we shot basketballs through hollowed crates and cracked jokes on the boy whose mother wore him out with a beating in front of his entire fifth-grade class. We sat on the number five bus, headed downtown, laughing at some girl whose mother was known to reach for anything--cable wires, extension cords, pots, pans. We were laughing, but I know that we were afraid of those who loved us most.